


Eloquence

by fem_castielnovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Dean, Deaf Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Slow Sex, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/fem_castielnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has told Cas before that he loves him, but he's decided he wants to try a new way.<br/>Learning curves are a bitch but Cas is more than worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eloquence

 

 

Sure, he can say a few words, a handful of sentences, but none of them have been this important before.  
His family never needed them. The sign had always sufficed because it was what he’d grown up knowing and all that he’d ever expected would be asked of him.

But this is something Dean wants to do for Cas.

The first time he says them – _the words_ ,  Cas is asleep. Dean hadn't planned it, never even considered it before. But nonetheless that night he whispers them into his boyfriend's hair:  
"I love you, Cas"

They felt strange – slick and clumsy, eager to escape. It’s been a while since he's spoken anything and the vibrations in his chest didn't come with the surety of the words he has mastered. He is certain he's said them wrong.

So he goes to Charlie.  
When she finds out what he wants she gets the face Dean knows she makes when she's squealing and her lips read a chorus of, "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!"

She’s quick to slap a hand over her own mouth and glance over her shoulder at a trim young woman with a badge and a scowl. Dean correctly assumes she’s shushing Charlie for screaming in the middle of her library. He’s often grateful for the ability to talk whenever he wants in the world’s only three dimensional language.  
Dean can’t see her face but she gives an apologetic wave to the woman and she walks away as Charlie turns back to Dean with a delighted smile. She quickly signs how utterly adorable she finds it that he wants to learn.

 **Not learn** , he tells her. **I can say it; I want to say it _perfectly_**.

 

And it becomes Thursday afternoons where they meet in one of the library's private study rooms to practice. Mostly, it’s the nuances of the phrase he’s missing. He doesn’t know what his tone should be. If it sounds false, or if the consonants are too harsh, or the meshing of the syllables too rough. Which is why he has Charlie helping him.  
Charlie has a potpourri of exercises for him to perfect the phrase. She does exaggerated renditions of the shapes he’s supposed to be making with his mouth. She has him put a hand to her vocal cords and fingertips to her sternum to feel the vibrations he should be mimicking. She tugs on his jaw as he makes different sounds with his vocal cords. Once she tried poking his tongue with a Q-tip but they had quickly decided that wasn’t going to work. Dean isn’t sure how effective these exercises are but they’re something.

There are downsides to working with one of your best friends, of course. The primary problem that Dean has with Charlie is the seemingly endless stream of jokes she’s got and finds a place for at the most inopportune moments. Something else that only serves to upset Dean are the funny faces Charlie will sometimes make, because that means Dean’s saying it really wrong. It’s worse when he _knows_ he’s saying it wrong. Dean is aware that she’s not doing it on purpose or to offend him but it’s still annoying to have to think about. And he quickly grows frustrated with himself. He’d expected to master this in a week. But Charlie knows his standards and how important this is to him, so if she doesn’t think it’s perfect then it’s not perfect.

 

 

Dean remembers the first time he’d told Cas. How he’d thought to himself that Cas wouldn’t recognize what shape Dean was making, how warm Cas’s stomach had felt under his fist, the delicious heat that burned into his fingertips as he’d uncurled his fingers into the desired gesture.  
How Cas had rolled over with wide, adoring eyes and simultaneously mouthed and signed, _“ **You love me?** ”_ awe and timid delight written in the wide smile and lax hands.  
He recalls how deep his teeth sank into his own lower lip as he nodded shyly. Being the first one to say it is terrifying – more so when you don’t expect the other person to _realize_ that you’ve said it.  
Before Dean could withdraw the unchecked sign, Cas had covered it with one of his own hands and reached out with his free one to press a reciprocal sign to Dean’s soft stomach.

Dean remembers how he had blushed, and in his embarrassment, how he’d turned his face into the pillow to hide the too-wide smile and redness that pushed at his cheeks. It had taken a barrage of sweet kisses for him to re-emerge and that was only because the kisses were heading distinctly into round two territory.

 

It doesn’t take much to make him want to tell it to Cas anymore. Dean likes how he usually forms the sign and presses his hand into Castiel’s chest after they finish making love – which is what Cas calls it. It embarrasses him beyond belief, but Dean _adores_ that his boyfriend chooses to call it that. Not to mention that it serves to contrast and make Cas’s dirty talk that much filthier. (Hey – dirty signing and foreplay are a thing).

 

 

 

After a month of seemingly-fruitless Thursdays, Dean finds himself incredibly unfulfilled after the way the previous day's practice had gone. There were a handful of opportunities he hadn’t taken this morning because he wasn’t sure enough. And now he thinks he regrets it a little.  
Right now, they’re out to lunch with Sam and a few friends. He’s beyond fed up with not being able to say the words he’s working so hard to nail down. It should be so much _simpler_.  
In his lap, Dean slowly shapes his hand into the sign for “I love you.” Slowly, because he doesn’t want Cas to notice right away, and the man has gotten eerily good at watching Dean’s hands constantly (it flatters and warms Dean). Castiel has just finished saying a sentence that’s made everyone else laugh when Dean presses it into Castiel’s thigh. If he’d been paying attention, Dean would have been able to read Cas’s lips and laughed along at the joke, but missing out on it doesn’t seem to matter as much when Cas turns to him, eyes widening fractionally.

Dean doesn’t respond to his boyfriend’s shock. It’s a fair reaction and he’s trying not to draw attention to himself, especially not with Sam sitting across the table. Dean is very particular and usually reserved about most PDA. Telling Cas that he loves him with other people nearby (even if those people likely don’t understand what he’s saying) is a big deal for Dean.

 

It takes two more Thursdays after that for Dean to get it _right_.  
He’s been afraid of practicing it at home – worried that Cas might overhear, or that he’d start saying it wrong without knowing, and undo what ground he’s gained.  
That second Thursday, though, he walks into the room ready for it. He tests the phrase once softly, but still loud enough to feel the vibration in his chest. Charlie’s eyes brighten and he squares himself up to face her and from his lips pours forth a confident, “I love you, Cas.”

Charlie’s grin spreads across her face like a wildfire. **Perfect** , she signs just before she jumps on him in an enormous hug. When she’s satisfied, she releases him and steps back, hands atop his shoulders as she stares him in the eye. “Do it again,” she mouths, slow and enunciated enough to ensure he misses neither syllable nor intent.  
They spend the rest of the afternoon drilling the phrase into his head until his tongue and vocal cords have it down pat on muscle memory alone.

 **Flawless** , Charlie signs as they leave for the afternoon. **I’m so proud of you**.

Dean nudges her shoulder playfully but turns his face so she can’t see the blush he’s sporting.

 

 

Dean would have liked to make this more special. He wishes he’d gotten candles or flowers, or asked Charlie to pick out a romantic CD he could have put on in the background.  
But he cooked dinner and Cas had told him he loved it and now Dean wants to show his boyfriend just how much he appreciates him. Being patient this long has been an immense struggle.

They wash and dry the dishes, as usual, but instead of going into the living room when they’re done, Dean taps on his boyfriend’s wrist. He doesn’t sign anything, just beckons Cas to their bedroom.

It paints on the little pinched expression of consternation that Cas gives when he’s not sure what Dean’s saying or where he’s going in a conversation. Sometimes Dean gestures in ways that he knows will elicit that exact expression. It’s really adorable.

He settles on the bed and pats the place beside him when Cas pauses to watch him from the doorway. He crosses the room and settles on the mattress, automatically curling into Dean’s side. Dean reaches an arm around and curls right back. He kisses Castiel’s forehead and they both relax, Cas dropping his head to Dean’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded as they jump across freckles and lock onto blown pupils. Dean resists the urge to clear his throat. It would draw more attention than he wants, so he swallows instead.

 **Make love?** he signs.

Castiel’s eyes widen keenly and he smiles, nodding as he leans in for a kiss.  
Usually Dean doesn’t ask with signs. He asks with gestures and glances, or Cas is the one suggest it with a sign. That is, if it doesn’t happen organically.  

Cas’s palm slides over his stomach beneath his shirt. And Dean convinces himself that even with how nervous he is, he can be composed enough to get this show on the road.  
They undress each other with surety, eager building as more and more skin becomes available.

They’re slouched against the headboard when the last of their clothing finds its place on the floor. Dean’s mouth waters at their matching hardness. Cas straddles one of Dean’s thighs and keeps an arm braced against the wall as he leans forward to kiss along Dean’s neck. With his free hand, Cas brushes his knuckles up and down over the side of Dean’s ribcage. The sensation makes Dean shudder and his breath hitches once Cas finds the sweet spot on his throat. Dean sucks in a gulp of air and turns to seek out Castiel’s mouth with his own.

When they pull apart, he knows his voice will be thick so he swallows again. His hand catches the side of Castiel’s face.

“I love you, Cas.”

It came out right. Cas would have responded well no matter how awkward it sounded but Dean is sure that _it came out right._

And Castiel has positively lit up from within.

“I love you too,” he mouths clearly. “I love you, Dean.”  
He leans in for a kiss and murmurs it against Dean’s lips, “I love you, Dean.” The breath of whispers is much easier to feel than regular speech.  
Cas moves down the bed and Dean feels teeth graze his neck. Kisses retrace the path before the words come again; Shapes formed with tongue and lips that he recognizes after working for weeks to capture them. “I love you, I love you.”

Dean arches his back when Cas finds the sweet spot once more but he only lingers at it a moment before he’s moving on. In hushed air he speaks it along Dean’s chest and stomach so Dean can feel him _say it back_. The vibrations tremor through his skin and Cas's lips ghost across his body and his breath whooshes out to produce the sentiment.

Each warm whisper gushes out from the point of exhale and spreads through Dean to make him warm and hard. His cock twitches with nearly every other pant. Dean’s hips jerk up helplessly, so near to the heat of Castiel’s torso hovering over him. Castiel’s eyes flick up to meet his, “I love you, Dean.” There’s another kiss landing low on his stomach and then Cas is adjusting his position between Dean’s legs.

“I-I love you Cas,” he manages, husky and strained as Cas licks a stripe up his length. Cas hums and even though his lips are only glancing off of his cock, the vibration makes Dean shiver. Cas gives another dragging lick then swallows him down. Dean gasps and gently twines his fingers in Castiel’s hair. He struggles for a moment to gain control of his limbs but reaches up to the nightstand to fumble for the lube which he slides against the back of Castiel’s hand until he takes it from him. Cas keeps working his mouth over Dean’s cock as he slicks up his fingers and begins to tease Dean’s hole. He starts to toy with the head when he gets two fingers in. It makes it easier to handle the ardent pace Cas sets. Dean grits his teeth when Cas gets up to three – the paper-thin edge between pain and pleasure nearly tipping him over too soon. Cas doesn’t help when he slides off of Dean’s dick with a final, hard suck and moves upwards to dapple kisses across Dean’s chest and up his neck.

“I love you, Cas,” he says when he knows Cas will be able to feel it under his mouth.

“I love you, too,” Cas murmurs back. It’s like they can’t manage to repeat it enough. They overcompensate for not having said it before.  
Some part of Dean is hungry for the familiarity of their usual ritual, but he’s more than grateful to get to experience this as well. Awed, maybe.

Cas’s fingers begin to slip so easily in and out of him that he feels lost for a moment when they don’t immediately slide back in. The backside of Cas’s hand brushes Dean’s inner thigh in a back-and-forth motion and he spreads his legs wider when he realizes that Cas is slicking himself up for the main event. Dean tightens his hold where his arms are tucked under Cas’s and hooked over the top of Cas’s shoulders from the back. He lifts and wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist. The excitement born in these moments of anticipation has yet to fail Dean.

Cas’s forehead falls into place at the crook of Dean’s neck and he nudges at his hole. When his dick begins to slide in, all Dean is capable of is a low groan. Dean loves this part, the breathless first moments, how full he feels, getting used to being spread wide no matter how many times they do this.

They pant in off beats as Dean takes time to adjust. Cas’s eyes are shut tight, trying to keep a rein on himself, but a whimper from Dean has them snapping open. Dean sighs, and something softer than a dreamy smile takes over his face when he gets the eye contact he wanted. Cas smiles back and leans in closer, gently settling tender kisses on his swollen lips.

Cas has an impossible amount of self-control, but he hisses when Dean unconsciously constricts around him. Cas grits his teeth and sucks in a few tight breaths before looking up pleadingly to Dean. He nods, giving Cas the permission he seeks to pull out then roll back in. Dean gasps, back arching at the sweet friction. Cas does it again, just as slowly, and the gasp gets lost to the column of Cas’s throat at the point where Dean has attached himself.

Dean slips one of his hands around to the base of Cas’s neck to feel more than the ghosts of the sounds that haunt the air around them. His fingers soak up the tremors of hums and grunts, and he feels himself whine in response.  

Cas’s pulse beats hard and heavy through a vein under Dean’s thumb. Dean cranes his neck to suck at the heartbeats. Later, he’ll relish the ability to admire the dark, rosy marks over breakfast and the way Cas will discreetly try to cover them up while he’s getting dressed.

Dean can feel Cas’s knees slipping on the slick sheets, so he squeezes tighter, digs his heels in a little deeper. But that only serves to throw Cas off more. He gives a heavy groan and a hard thrust as he adjusts himself on the bed. Dean shouts when the thrust lands on his prostate.

“ _Again,_ ” he demands. Castiel complies, with immaculate aim. A barrage of languorous, solid thrusts, and Dean is putty in his hands, limbs weakening, struggling to stay wrapped around Cas as he’s driven towards the edge. His face contorts and his eyes flutter, but he’s gotten good at keeping eye contact when he wants to. Through sheer willpower he hangs on, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Cas bends himself to press his lips to Dean’s cheek, “Let go, Dean,” Cas tells him, “Come for me.”

Slurred as they are, he can’t make out the words, but in them he finds release.

 _“Cas!”_ he calls out when he comes.

Cas shudders at the shout, even though it’s something Dean’s done before. He likes saying Cas’s name and it fits so well in those moments.

Dean’s hands fall limply to the mattress but they clutch the sheets as Cas continues to rock into him. Cas pushes up onto his hands, looking for a better angle. Dean gives a cry when he finds his prostate again, and Cas aims for the spot, keeping Dean stimulated as he chases his own release.

The pace quickens suddenly enough to tell Dean that Cas is _close_. Dean squeezes his legs as if he can bring Cas deeper by sheer will alone, and he clamps down on the next push. Cas spills easily, throwing back his head with a groan and filling Dean up all over again.

In the lull after climax Cas holds himself in cobra pose above Dean – letting them both soak up air into their lungs and their connectedness – before drawing back and pulling out.

He leaves one leg draped over Dean’s calf as he slumps to the side. They lie panting in time – Dean feels Cas’s chest brushing against his arm with every inhale. He lets his eyes fall shut and they rest.

Cas drops a hand to Dean’s stomach and starts to sign. Foggy-brained, Dean struggles with the message so he shakes his head a little back and forth on the pillow and Cas repeats himself: **We should clean up.**

“Mmm,” Dean hums discontentedly. He turns his head so he can see the half of Cas’s face that isn’t buried in the pillow, and he raises a palm with splayed fingers. Cas lazily glances at it them then mouths, “Five more minutes?”

Dean nods tiredly but Cas releases an acquiescent sigh against Dean’s shoulder. They scoot incrementally towards each other; Cas nuzzles into his neck and Dean shudders blithely. He buries his nose into Cas’s hair and basks in the afterglow with the sweet puffs of air on his throat.

“Love you, Dean,” Cas murmurs.

“I love you, Cas.” Dean feels his boyfriend’s lips slide into a smile where they meet his neck. Dean squeezes Cas’s fingers where they still rest on his stomach, until they fidget as Cas starts trying to sign again. With Herculean effort, Dean props Cas’s hand up so he can see it. Reading through the skin of his torso is difficult. Dean watches the hand float into his line of view. Cas’s gestures are weak and limp, but readable.

 **You don’t have to keep saying it out loud** , he signs, **I … I like the way we usually do it a lot.**

Dean smiles and kisses his hand, **I’m glad. Me too. But I spent a lot of time working on saying it. I’m milking it for all it’s worth.**

Cas laughs. Dean loves the way Cas looks when he laughs – all gummy smile and squinting delight.

 **Fair enough** , Cas tells him, and he leans in for another kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd had the notes for this written out for a while but this week's episode was my motivation to finish it. Goddam I love Eileen. 
> 
> Side note, I have taken ASL and I have known deaf people, but I am not deaf and I am not particularly close with any deaf people anymore. Let me know if I've fucked something up terribly.  
> Also this is my first smut in a while and I think I did okay. 
> 
> Exits are to your left, your right, and your rear, restrooms are to the front, Kudos and comments are found below, and as always, very appreciated. Thank you for flying Air fem-castielnovak.


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